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Religion

April 22, 2010

As the last quote I'd like to introduce from Robert Johson, the Jungian analyst, for now, it's a passage about a type of altar seen among "primitive" peoples in Peru, who often carry this altar with them, the better to address spirituality wherever they are. I've made a botch-up of the illustration, because I wasn't able to find a "perfect" representation of the mesa, so it's a combination of several that I saw. Here is Johnson's quote. Once again, it's part of the ongoing "conversation" we're having, about whether one side has to "win out" in our natures in order to heal. Johnson and the curanderos of South America would seem to say, "no." Healing is what takes place in the space between...

"A particularly powerful form of (overlap between darkness and light, or the self and its shadow side) can be seen in the customs of South American curanderos, who are a curious mixture of primitive shaman and Catholic priest. Their mesa (table) is an altar where they say Mass for the healing of their patients. They divide this altar into three distinct sections. The right is made up of inspiring elements such as a statue of a saint, a flower, a magic talisman; the left contains very dark and forbidding elements such as weapons, knives or other instruments of destruction. The space between these two opposing elements is a place of healing. The message is unmistakable: our own healing proceeds from that overlap of what we call good and evil, light and dark. It is not that the light element alone does the healing; the place where light and dark begin to touch is where miracles arise." -- Robert A. Johnson, Jungian analyst, author of "Owning
Your Own Shadow: Understanding the Dark Side of the Psyche."

For more on the topic of the "Tao of Healing," click here. It's a selection of quotes that represents the ongoing, organic process that we undergo whenever we want to get well.

Editor's note: For more on the curanderos and their mesas, click here or here.

February 21, 2009

Those of us who've spent more time than we care to admit it around religi-anity are familiar with the story of the Apostle Paul. Probably a Hellenic Jew, he had a strong background persecuting -- i.e., killing -- Christians -- which all the more shocked first century Christians when he converted and became one. Christian churches often use the story of Paul, an aggressive non-believer, as an example of how "anyone can become a Christian," even one fervently opposed to Christians and their teaching, such as he was in his early years.

As he says about himself, in Acts 22: "4I persecuted the followers of this Way to their death, arresting both men and women and throwing them into prison..." And later in the same passage, "'Lord,' I replied, 'these men know that I went from one synagogue to another to imprison and beat those who believe in you. 20And when the blood of your martyr Stephen was shed, I stood there giving my approval and guarding the clothes of those who were killing him.' "

For our purposes here, though, there's something more interesting about the Paul story. How the frustrations he espouses in his later life are really textbook PTSD hallmarks: from killing Christians.

15I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.16And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. 17As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. 18I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out.19For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.20"

(The foregoing passages are from Romans 7.) Paul pitches this as a battle between good and evil, between sin and God; but we can just as easily see this as the characteristics of PTSD that Paul could not shake, even though he had left his former life as a killer of Christians, and reconciled himself to God.

How many combat veterans with PTSD sit in the wreckage of ruined family celebrations, and wonder the same things? To have the intention to experience one thing with their loved ones, but end up being blindsided by feelings and reactions they can't control? And who end up feeling terribly ashamed for how things turned out, when they really meant for them to be so very different?

Many veterans with PTSD "solve" this dilemma by "taking themselves out of the mix," either figuratively or literally, by sequestering themselves "off in their bunkers" away from family and friends, mainly out of a desire to protect their loved ones from one more disaster at their hands, and to avoid the all-too-familiar triggers. Unfortunately, quality of life is lost somewhere along the way, and trigger-avoidance only goes to behavior control, not finally lessening the symptoms or reducing the overall sum of what's there to be triggered.

Seems that current suffering veterans, with or without specifically religious leanings, may have an antecedent of their own in none other than the Apostle Paul.

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Editor's note: More than a hat tip to Pat, whose insight this really was...

June 18, 2008

An update on an earlier blog post, from February of this year. Rob Honzell, Sr., M.S.'s book, First Person: Combat PTSD, is now available at Amazon.com. It's Honzell's account, in his own words, of what his Vietnam experience was like, and how they've affected the ensuing years since. Not sure how much of it relates specifically to PTSD, despite the title -- I've just started leafing through it -- but to the extent that it's written by a Vietnam veteran who's been coming to terms with what he experienced ever since, it's worth knowing it's out there, and maybe seeing if your local library will buy a copy, to keep the Vietnam experience alive so we can keep learning from it.

It's also fair to say, not many people are able to write about their own experiences with PTSD - it's just too devastating. We mentioned the other day a book that's just come out by an Army Ranger, Nate Self, about his Two Wars: with insurgents and with his own PTSD -- from the current OIF/OEF conflict. With hundreds of books about the wars in our collective lifetimes, the just aren't many that address this topic directly, by people who've experienced PTSD. Let's hope these are the start of many more contributions to the first person narrative literature on the subject.

March 24, 2008

Yahoo News has a good story today about the role of military chaplains in honoring the sacrifices of servicemen and women who have died in combat. It profiles the experiences of four military chaplains, who've served in Vietnam, Afghanistan or Iraq. The article is called, "Chaplains Salute Each of the Fallen," and it's linked here. As the article points out, "Military chaplains don't carry weapons, don't engage in combat, and yet they know as well as any the human cost of war," and this "human cost" very much takes its toll, even on those most qualified by their faith, so to speak, to offer comfort and support. Said one chaplain, quoted in the article, with each subsequent death, "you lose part of yourself that you're never going to get back."

Those of us who were raised on M*A*S*H have a probably very skewed view of what chaplains do in wartime, but there's no question that they're a special breed -- needing to be there to offer words of comfort and support to the troops, in the midst of struggling with their own very real grieving over loss.

In related news, congratulations are in order to fellow PTSD blogger, Kathie Costos, for just last week passing the test to become one. With her extensive, 25 years of personal experience caring about combat trauma and its effects on the troops, as well as her personally offering comfort to those who suffer, she should really be one sensational chaplain. Kudos to her for a wonderful accomplishment.

November 10, 2007

(I feel like I'm just posting this under duress. Religion has a tendency to muddy the waters, at the very least, and sometimes do quite a bit more harm that good. Regardless...)

Just became aware of a book that talks about healing combat trauma from a Christian perspective, called The Combat Trauma Healing Manual: Christ-centered Solutions for Combat Trauma. I've added it to the book list on left. Approach with a degree of caution, though. For one thing, it's self-published. (Not that that's necessarily a bad thing, but it can mean it wouldn't have been published otherwise.) For another thing, and it's hard to say this without seeing it first, but just in case, puhlease do not take a book like this and use it INSTEAD of getting help. In addition to, perhaps, if it meshes well with your personal belief system, but please pretty please, not in place of getting actual help. The number of people in the world who go off their medications, or throw them away, believing that they no longer need them because a little talk with [insert name of any spiritual or motivational leader] has made them all better, is probably pretty darn shocking. Please, consider spiritual healing as an adjunct to, not a replacement for, actual therapeutic healing. And now back to our regularly scheduled program.

(Someone once joked that all healing is fundamentally spiritual, anyway. Doesn't come any other way. Or at least feels that way, when it does. Enough said.)